Burning Bridges
by michelle-31a
Summary: Hermione has lost everything dear to her in the world and turns to one last friend in desperation...


1His death was not your doing, Luna had once told her in the days following the Dark Lord's final defeat.  
  
Does it matter, had been Hermione's despairing reply. I was the only one with him, and now he's gone.  
  
Hermione shuddered. It had been almost five years, and the memories still haunted her as though the horrible events had taken place within the last fortnight.  
  
He'd screamed at her to leave him behind, lest they not reach Harry in time.  
  
You have to warn him, Hermione, he'd told her desperately. She knew he was right, deep down, though it hadn't made her choice any easier. If only she'd been the one to have the shattered leg, she would have welcomed her fate much more readily than that which had been dealt to her.  
  
She gazed around the garden, the myriad colours and shapes passing somehow unnoticed, her eyes seeing but not seeing. The chirping of birds, the gentle trickling of the nearby brook, the low buzzing of a hummingbird's wings, the gentle creaking of the wooden bench swing, all were wasted on senses that had been dulled by what might have been an eternity's worth of grief, though an outside observer would have remarked that only a few years had elapsed.  
  
Hermione had tried, really tried to take in her surroundings with a clear mind, to open her heart to the rustic and idyllic beauty that surrounded her. But, try as she might, none of it affected her. The colours were simply hues of the light spectrum. The birds perched on the branches overhead were to her eyes nothing more than simple avian mammals. None of what she saw mattered, really. But then, very little had over the last few years.  
  
Ever since...  
  
Hermione swallowed awkwardly, the memories of that darkest of days never far removed from her conscious thoughts. The passage of time had done nothing to dull the searing pain in her heart.  
  
But then, why should it? She had been responsible, of that there was no question, even if Harry's shunning hadn't served as a most painful reminder all this time.  
  
There was nary a day where she hadn't been reminded of her loss, but she knew that it had been Harry's loss as well. The tragic event itself had been quite horrible enough on its own, but its ongoing consequences, consequences which Hermione which had desperately tried to mend over the last few years, had made living her life unbearable.  
  
Mending the burning bridges of her relationships she'd certainly tried, though without success. The surviving Weasleys had proved no less elusive. She might have given up, not only on her friendship with Harry but on life itself, had it not been for the persisting efforts of the one friend who hadn't abandoned her since that fateful day. A friend which she never even fully realized she had, really, until...after...  
  
That friend which was now emerging from the back door of a rather rustic looking house. A smallish home which might not have looked terribly out of place in the old fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm, yet seemed a perfect fit for its most unusual occupants.  
  
"Here you go," said Luna in her characterisitcally dreamy voice as she handed Hermione a large mug of hot chocolate before gracefully setting down on the creaky old bench next to her.  
  
Hermione smiled. Well, her mouth did, anyway. Her eyes, as always, were open windows to sadness and exhaustion. Or at least, that's how Luna had put it the moment Hermione had arrived at the front door. The former Gryffindor prefect had denied it, of course.  
  
But Luna knew.  
  
Knew all too well, in fact. There was something about the young woman that Hermione could never quite grasp. Something most people might find unnerving, though Hermione had come to appreciate like no other, despite its peculiarity; her baffling ability to glean so much with just a simple glance with those huge, somehow knowing silver eyes.  
  
Which were now observing Hermione with that same curious interest that the Gryffindor had seen during their fateful first meeting nearly a decade before.  
  
Hermione stared into her hot chocolate as though it might provide her with some shelter from that constant gaze. It wasn't a piercing nor analytical gaze, not at all, but caring and attentive. To Hermione's tortured soul, however, this was little consolation.  
  
She wasn't even sure why Luna had asked her over, really. Every other occasion had ended the same way; Harry hiding somewhere up on the second floor, shunning her utterly, until such time as Hermione could bear it no longer and departed in tears.  
  
So why, then, did Luna keep asking her? Moreover, why did Hermione keep coming?  
  
This occasion had proved no different from the rest, Luna having led her through the house upon her arrival to the garden out back. Harry was, once again, somewhere upstairs, conspicuous by his absence.  
  
And yet Luna had continued to invite Hermione, always managing, somehow, to persuade her to come, despite the pain of it all.  
  
Nonetheless, it had taken Luna a considerable effort to convince Hermione this time, to the point where Luna had actually used a phone to call directly, the Gryffindor having long since shut herself off from the wizarding world and its floo network.  
  
Hermione still recalled the surprise she'd experienced upon picking up the receiver and heard that familiar dreamy voice on the other end.  
  
You know why I'm calling, Luna had stated matter-of-factly without so much as a preliminary greeting.  
  
Hermione had told Luna to stop trying, that it was "better this way." Of course Luna hadn't believed a word of it.  
  
I'll bring you here on a Thestral if I must, the Ravenclaw had countered, knowing full well Hermione's intense discomfort of flying on anything that didn't include a seat and a window.  
  
And so here she was, holding a forgotten mug of hot chocolate.  
  
It would be the last time, however.  
  
She gazed up at the open window up on the second floor, wondering if Harry could hear them.  
  
"I'm hoping it will too," voiced Luna airily as she looked up at the grey clouds forming a low, grey tapestry above them.  
  
Hermione blinked and shifted her gaze back to Luna.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think it might rain," breathed Luna, her eyes still fixed on the clouds, apparently taking Hermione's skyward glance as an observation of the weather. "I do hope it will."  
  
Hermione didn't have the energy to correct Luna's mistaken perception, even had she felt so inclined. She instead looked around the garden. "Your flowers look healthy enough -- "  
  
"Yes, I keep them well watered," said Luna, still staring up into the heavens, a dreamy smile forming upon her pale features. "But I do like to take a stroll while it's raining. The drops tickle..."  
  
Hermione looked back to the ashen skies, wondering how Luna could see anything pleasurable in the sombre clouds.  
  
She briefly tried to imagine herself walking through a downpour, concluding straight away that 'ticklish' would be one of the last adjectives she'd use to describe the experience. But then, Luna always managed to see the better side of things, somehow...  
  
A trait she found herself wishing she's possessed.  
  
"Why don't you come with me?" asked Luna suddenly, turning to Hermione with her silver eyes wide in enthusiasm.  
  
Hermione blinked. "Come with -- where are you going?"  
  
"When it rains," said Luna, indicating the prevalent clouds overhead with a wave of her hand, "we can go for a stroll, if you like. There's a patch of elderberries in the woods not very far from here that'll be perfect for picking now; it's right under a nest of Bollywoggles, but they won't bother us. They don't like the rain very much."  
  
Hermione barely registered the young woman's words, staring into her untouched hot chocolate.  
  
She said nothing, and Luna did not press the matter.  
  
Luna was staring at some imaginary patterns on the back of her hand a minute later when her dreamy voice broke the stillness.  
  
"I don't think Ronald would be very happy to be here today," she said casually. "I imagine he'd be quite upset at how you turned your back on life – "  
  
Hermione gasped and bolted up from the bench, her mug toppling from her lap to crash in pieces at her feet.  
  
"How DARE you?!" she wailed, her voice shaking in fury. "H-HOW...DARE YOU?? HE – HE'S THE ONE PERSON – I – "  
  
Hermione was trembling, her eyes welling with tears, although there was barely a reaction from the Ravenclaw. She simply stood up slowly and faced Hermione, expressionless.  
  
Hermione felt the past five years of pain and anguish rising up inside her like an emotional wave in danger of cresting her fragile banks.  
  
"H-HE WOULD UNDERST – HE – HE DID – "  
  
The memories of that terrible day suddenly game gushing forth in her tortured mind. She ran a violently shaking hand back through her tangled brown hair, trying desperately to swallow the words which came forth and finding her throat unwilling to cooperate. Luna, strangely, just stood there, quietly, making no attempt to defend her statement.  
  
But then, Hermione had the distinct feeling that hadn't been Luna's intention at all.  
  
"H-How could you," said Hermione, her lower lip trembling. "You d-don't know...what it's like..."  
  
Luna blinked but said nothing. Suddenly it hit Hermione, and she covered her mouth, eyes wide with shock.  
  
"Luna, I...I'm so sorry," she said in a squeaky voice. "I...didn't..."  
  
"You cancelled your subscription to The Quibbler," chimed Luna suddenly, as though discussing the latest Quidditch league standings.  
  
Hermione closed her mouth and felt her stomach twist into knots. Luna's sudden meandering had brought the conversation uncomfortably close to the darkness in her heart. She daren't discuss this now --  
  
"You cancelled The Daily Prophet, too," said Luna conversationally. "I had one of Daddy's contacts there check."  
  
An intense nervousness began to mix in with Hermione's anguish. She could no longer look Luna in the eye, and cast her pained gaze down to her feet.  
  
They were both quiet for several long moments. There was no way Luna could know -- anyone could know --  
  
"I know it's not a trip you're planning," said Luna sofly.  
  
Hermione felt her insides grow ice cold. She crossed her arms nervously.  
  
"I d-don't know what you mean," she whispered, dimly aware of her increasingly laboured breathing.  
  
But Luna clearly believed not a word of it. She took a step closer and slowly uncrossed Hermione's arms, taking the brunette's trembling hands in hers.  
  
"You mustn't leave," said Luna, and for once her voice held no trace of the dreaminess which was normally so prevalent.  
  
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tighly as she felt Luna lean forward until their foreheads touched lightly.  
  
"Don't go," whispered Luna, her fingers squeezing Hermione's.  
  
Hermione's shoulders began to shake as she wept. Somehow...Luna knew.  
  
"I...Luna...I d-don't know what to do anymore," said Hermione in a squeaking voice, "I j-just...it hurts so..."  
  
"I know," said Luna softly. "But you do need to feel again..."  
  
"I...I can't k-keep on like this," sobbed Hermione. "I d-don't...I...I have no one...Luna...I'm all alone..."  
  
Hermione felt Luna suddenly pull away. She looked up through her tear-stained eyes to see Luna looking at her, a strangely hopeful look on her face.  
  
"Actually," said Luna, "that's not quite true."  
  
"Luna? W-what -- "  
  
Luna's huge silver eyes welled with tears, though her expression was strangely blissful.  
  
"I'll leave you know," she said mystically and turned to go.  
  
Hermione blinked. She stumbled forward a half step. Had she said something wrong? Was she now losing the last friend she had in this world?  
  
"Luna, wait!" she cried. "What -- where are you going?"  
  
Luna turned back to her and smiled. "I think I'll get an early start on dinner," she said happily. "You two do have a lot of catching up to do."  
  
With that, Luna turned and strolled back to the house, a definite spring in her step.  
  
Hermione suddenly felt a presence behind her. She whirled around --  
  
Her jaw dropped.  
  
There, standing before her, hands in his pockets, one foot stabbing the sand and looking extremely awkward, was Harry.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened precipitously.  
  
"Um...so..." said Harry clumsily, "I...um, hope you stil like pumpkin juice...right?"  
  
He raised his eyes nervously to meet Hermione's.  
  
Hermione felt as though her heart was about to explode.  
  
"OH, HARRY!!"  
  
She threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around him wildly, Harry stumbling backwards a few steps in surprise before returning the embrace, a bit awkwardly, certainly, but that mattered not to Hermione.  
  
"Harry -- Harry -- " sobbed Hermione into his shoulder.  
  
"Hey, it's okay," said Harry as he gently patted her back and cradled the back of her head. "It's all right, Hermione. Everything's all right -- "  
  
Hermione just caught a glimpse of Luna standing at the open door, smiling dreamily for a moment before ducking inside.  
  
Things were going to be all right, after all. 


End file.
